


Si Vis Pacem

by wiccalr



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Shuri Friendship, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Hanahaki Disease, Jewish Wanda Maximoff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Knows ASL, Telepathic Wanda Maximoff, Writer Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19128202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiccalr/pseuds/wiccalr
Summary: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with flowers. They will then proceed to cough up and vomit flowers as the disease progresses. As the disease reaches it`s final stages, the flowers will start to slowly suffocate the patient, usually resulting in death if the love is not returned. The only other known cure is surgical removal of the flowers, however the patient will lose all feeling towards their love, including platonically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Si Vis Pacem-  
> Latin for 'If you wish for peace"
> 
> This chapter takes place after the defeat of Thanos in Endgame, but before Steve returns the stones because I don't believe all of that happened in one day. 
> 
> In this story Bucky is established friends with Sam, Shuri & T'Challa. I also will be touching on Steve & Bucky's PTSD because MCU gave them dust.

Laughter echoed throughout the bar, the chorus joy of reunion by others drowned out by the presence of an exhausted strawberry blonde sitting across from Bucky. He seemed to always have that affect on him. Any time Bucky was around him, the rest of the world was blocked from his senses. He took in a shuddering deep breath, before speaking again.

"Are you sure about this, Steve?" Steve's blue irises slowly focused on him again.

"Honestly? No, I'm not. For a long time... I've never thought about what _I've wanted_. For half a decade, my mind had been buzzing around for a solution to fix the collateral damage Thanos did." Steve looked away in an instant and quickly blinked.  
Bucky could see the hot tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, highlighted more by the shadows underneath them, but he elected to keep his mouth shut. Steve may be an enhanced individual, but he wasn`t blessed with the immunity to trauma. No one was. 

"You know I'll support you no matter what you choose, pal. I always have. You know this won`t just affect you. That`s why I`m asking you to really consider this." Bucky downed the last of his drink in urgency, and quietly excused himself to step outside.

Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled, counting to ten before he exhaled.

_When everything goes south, in through your nose and out through your mouth._

Steve had dropped a bomb on him. Everything was overwhelming, he felt everything and nothing all at once.  
He wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. He thought  _finally,_  after all these years of playing chase with time, he had _finally_ caught up with Steve. He thought he was done losing time with him, only to heart twistingly discover he had woken up five more years into the future. While it may have been five years for Steve, it had only been days for him. Everything was still fresh to him. 

Him being in and out of cyrofreeze, brain washing, and a general dissociative state had also destroyed any feeling of time for him. He had barely begun to regain his time awareness before he was snapped and dusted away. He was in so much heart break , his chest was burning and filled to the brink with sorrow.

Another deep breath.

He had always felt like this day would come. That one day Steve would realize he didn't want Bucky around anymore, and leave him behind. Steve assured Bucky it would never happen, because they were in it for life. Of course, right when Bucky started to believe him, he did a complete 180⁰. It felt wrong.

It _was_ wrong. Peggy had lived her life, she was proud of it. She became director of S.H.I.E.L.D. She had a family and children. She moved on with her life, and she had wanted Steve to do the same. Steve would be ripping away all of that from her, and she wouldn`t even have a clue. It was entirely selfish, but Steve Rogers was never selfish. After everything he had sacrificed and been through without expecting reward; maybe he did deserve one of those 'be selfish for free' cards.

Bucky was at a cross roads , his mind in complete cognitive dissonance.

Would he be a bad friend to tell Steve it was morally wrong, or would he be a bad friend from keeping his friend from happiness? 

There was no winning end for him, it seemed. 

He stiffened when he felt someone else`s presence. 

"You alright, Buck? I know that it's a difficult subject right now." Steve's voice called out from behind him.

Bucky cleared his throat and turned his body halfway to meet Steve. 

"Yea, yea, I'm fine. I'm just trying to adjust to the fact that I've died. Twice. Both times during a war, both times coming back to fight another. 'S going to make it hard to score dates, it gives off the wrong impression." Bucky replied dryly. 

"Just a usual day in our line of work then, isn't it?" Steve smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Half of the population has shared life experience now."

Bucky wanted to laugh.

"I guess so, although I doubt they'd be able to empathize with the whole 'had a near death experience, and woke up decades later, out of time, without the slightest clue of what the hell is going on' trope."

"I guess so," Steve parroted. "that's a VIP club invite only. Something only you and I have." Steve's smile grew.

Bucky's chest started to burn, an angry fire clawing it's way up his respiratory system. He cleared his throat again.

**Something only you and I have.**

There was a beat of silence between them before Bucky spoke up again.

"Why?"

"Why, what?" One of Steve's eyebrows quirked.

**Why won't you stay with me?**

"Why haven't you told Sam?" Bucky blurted.

"I-" Steve sighed. "I don't know. Sam is a close friend, but he just wouldn't understand. He wouldn't understand my reasons like you, I don't think anyone BUT you would be able to see my perspective on this. You know how much Peggy means to me, and... to be able to have the chance to go back and make things right, I don't think I can just turn the other way." Steve tried.

"We have been together through a lot, and I know best friends all say that, but I mean it." Steve carefully approached and stood by Bucky's side, their shoulders brushing as the pair both turned to lean their arms against the white painted railing of the balcony. 

"And for that, I'm grateful. I love you, Buck."

Bucky felt another itch in his throat. He swallowed the feeling down, internally cringing as it stung. He felt like he just swallowed a hot rod. He turned his head and did a one over at Steve. Purple, blue and black bruises littered his face. A deep cut slit his eyebrow, and Bucky was sure it would scar that way. His eyes swirled with regret, loss, pain, anger. Several emotions that he hid locked in a box beneath the surface, several horrors that haunted Steve`s conscious. Bucky was no fool. Even if Steve put on his poker face and hid himself away, his eyes conveyed everything to those close enough to know him. His crystal clear blue eyes were a dead giveaway to how he truly felt.

They were beautiful. They were something Bucky had always remembered, even when he couldn`t remember himself. 

Steve caught Bucky's prying stare, and gave him an ever endearing smile.

"Remember that time when Sam, Nat and I dropped by Wakanda after a recon mission?" Steve's eyes held a dangerous glint of mischief and Bucky got an uneasy feeling. Nothing good ever happened when he got that look. 

"Yea, where are you going with this?" Bucky asked incredulously and narrowed his eyes. A gentle warning. 

That only made Steve's smile grow. 

"Well... you remember that time that the soaps you tried to wash your hands with wouldn`t lather? No matter how much water you put on it? That was us."

Bucky gaped at Steve.

"I can't believe you, Steve. You're terrible, you know that?" 

Steve held up his hands in surrender with a chuckle.

"Nat suggested it! " 

Bucky shook his head, a light smile tugging the corners of his mouth. He missed her, but it was pleasing to remember her in good faith right now.  

"How the hell did you even accomplish that? It was liquid soap!"  

Steve let out another laugh, this one more hardy and loud. His smile grew once more and his nose scrunched a bit. 

Bucky could listen to him laugh for all of eternity. 

"We put a little bit of nail polish varnish in the containers."

"Do you remember when I told you that Becca had eaten all of your chocolate bars? That was me." Bucky shot back.

Steve's laughter was cut short, his eyes wide and he gasped. 

"Buck, how could you? How did you even eat that many?!" He feigned hurt, topping it off with his hand placed across his heart. 

Bucky shrugged, and with a sly grin on his face said, "I tried marijuana for the first time." 

It was silent for a few seconds before the both of them bursted out into laughter again. 

Bucky was glad that no matter how much, or little time passed between them, their relationship would pick up where it left off with ease.

They simply just complimented each other so well.

 Steve wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, and sighed. 

"Alright, alright, I think I'm going to call it a night, I'm pretty exhausted." Steve side glanced the chestnut haired male beside him. "Will I see you tomorrow night, punk?"

"Of course, idiot." Bucky nodded.   
"G'night, Steve."

"G'night, Buck." Steve held up his hand, creating the sign for 'I love you' in ASL. Bucky returned it, and Steve started to retreat towards the exit before stopping and looking over his shoulder.  
"Thank you for everything." And with that, he left.

Bucky turned back towards the railing of the patio, and began to immerse himself into his thoughts again.

He had always felt strongly for Steve, he could admit that to himself with ease. The moment they met, they had instantly connected. Within their first few sentences, Bucky felt as if he had known Steve since the beginning of creation. 

He didn't start feeling the knots in stomach when he saw Steve until they were at Coney Island for Bucky's 18th birthday. Steve had managed to pick three fights in less than five hours, which was a record breaker for the righteous man. He had successfully diffused the situation each time, but seeing how passionate Steve became in the name of others ignited a wicked candle inside of him. Bucky knew Steve adopted the perseverance and strong willed traits from his mother, Sarah Rogers. He also knew his desire to stand for those without voices was born as a product of him growing up in an abusive home. Steve knew what it was like to be voiceless, and he vowed to never allow himself to be a bystander. He could never turn the other way when things went south. It just wasn't how Steve was in nature. 

Steve was selfless, he was a fiery passion, a man of kindness, a true enigma of freedom and equality for all in America.  
Bucky felt his heart swell.

Steve was the smell before rain, the feeling of sitting next to the fireplace with hot cocoa while it snowed outside. He is watching the sun set, and the sky turning a cream orange. Steve was the thrilling satisfaction of driving down the highway with friends with the windows rolled down, and favorite songs blasting. Steve was comforting and exciting, and Steve was  _home._

In that moment, Bucky started heaving.  
He struggled to breathe, his body convulsing with each violent cough.

He gripped the railing with one hand to keep his balance, the other hovering around his mouth.  
His throat itched and his chest ached with more fire than earlier. It was painful. Very, very painful. It was akin to the burn of drowning. He hastily drew in as much air as he could, and continued his wheezing.  
Something felt lodged in his airway, and with another cough, it expelled. His body was trembling from the fit, and he hadn't regained his focus until he felt a feather-light touch grace his fingers.  
His eyes shot up in confusion, and he could only watch in silence as it floated from his hand, and onto the floor.

A singular petal. One Blue Delphinium petal.

Bucky swallowed hard, quickly heading back inside to pay his tab. He numbly began his journey back to his apartment without another word or thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some emotional abuse & ableism in this chapter, its very brief

_Soft mechanical whirls filled his ears, hardly drowning out the crude language of the people around him. He felt like he was watching himself in a movie, there, but not really._

_"The test subject has been unresponsive to all methods so far, sir. I think we should find another asset, and cut our losses now. He is disabled, he's not physically capable nor complete." Came a young male's voice somewhere on his right, his voice sharp with disdain._

_"Non-sense. He has will. Determination. Those are exactly the qualities we are looking for. We just need to figure a way to redirect it to our liking. He is not broken, little one, simply a little roughed up. His arm is no problem. We've dealt with worse. Begin working on a prosthesis, you have 72 hours."_

_"But, sir our technological resources have become scarce since the-_

_"I don't recall asking for your input. Do as you're told and don't question me again. **Your compliance will be rewarded**." _

_Bucky was pushed backwards by a group of hands, and felt metal clasps around his limbs. He struggled and thrashed, feeling the cold metal rub his skin raw. He was bound, and began to feel the walls of the building closing in, threatening to swallow him whole._

_He felt a conductor placed around his head like a band, and his breathing began to quicken._

_"Listen here, **Asset**. I have tried patience with you, but you resist. I have tried negative reinforcement with you, and got nowhere. I have tried to break you, but you refuse to be broken in and put into your place. I'm done wasting time with you. You try to get through your obedience training by hiding yourself into your memories. You re-live them as a distraction so you aren't forced to live here, right now." _

_Bucky's eyes widened and he tried to shy away._

_"I'm no fool. I know that's your tactic. You refuse to break out of who you are, so I'm going to strip it from you. I'm going to wipe you clean so you can't resist anymore. I'll admit, you've got heart boy, that's your best quality. Unfortunately, we don't have use for that here." The black haired man backed away and went to a small computer on his left. "If only you had cooperated, you would've made this so much easier for everyone. **Your compliance will be rewarded** , refusal is met by pain. You have no one else to blame but yourself for what comes next." _

_The mechanical whirring got louder, and began to vibrate._

Bucky jolted awake with shaky breaths, running his fingers through his sweat dampened hair. 

"Fuck," he sucked in a breath, holding it for 10 seconds before he slowly exhaled, repeating the process until his anxiety eased and he was grounded to his reality. 

His phone vibrated, scooting a few centimeters with each methodical buzz. He unlocked it with shaky unsteady hands to read his messages, feeling his skin flush. 

_Starbucks: dress comfortable, we're going to be out for a while. we need a getaway after everything that's happened._

_Starbucks: don't ask where, it's a surprise!_

_Starbucks: see you tonight :)_

Bucky typed his reply and clicked send. He remembered last night , and quickly sent another text. 

_You: hey , can I drop by? I need to talk to you about something. we can grab lunch if you want._

_Asshat: Yea, you can come over. Can you bring back my jacket for fucks sake it's been five years._

_You: Yea yea I'll bring it. Quiet your whining_

_You: *Quite_

_Asshat: Your illiterate jumped out._

_You: Shut up English doesn't have consistent grammar rules._

Bucky rolled his eyes and dragged himself off the bed. He quickly got dressed and grabbed Sam's leather jacket he  ~~stole~~ borrowed from him before heading out the door. 

* * *

 

Once he arrived to Sam's apartment; he knocked onto the metal door and tied his hair up while he waited. After a few moments, clicks and turns sounded before the heavy framed door was pulled open with a muted  _whoosh_ to reveal a tired looking Sam. He ushered Bucky in and led him to the dining area. 

Bucky sat himself at the table, draping Sam's jacket on the back of the chair and drummed his metal fingers onto the surface. 

"Hey man, can I ask you for a favor?" He began. 

"It depends on the favor, what can I do for you?" 

"Have you heard of...coughing-"

Bucky narrowed his eyes in annoyance at being cut off. 

"Yes I've heard of coughing, it's what us regular people do when we`re sick." Sam replied all too casually.

"That's not what I- asshole." Bucky breathed. "The coughing I'm talking about is unusual. I've never heard of it as a regular human occurence."

"Oh? Well, keep talkin'. "

"I coughed up petals." Bucky began to fidget with his hands.

"Petals? You coughed up petals?" Sam repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, last night. I started coughing, and a petal came out ." Bucky nibbled his lip and shifted his weight between his feet.

"Yea...that's not something that happens. Are you sure it wasn't some drunken fever dream?" Sam quirked a brow.

"I'm fairly positive it wasn't a dream. You know it takes a LOT of alcohol to get me drunk. I only had a shot of Crown Royale last night while I was out with Steve, and I- I'm... I'm scared. My lungs felt like they were on fire with every breath I took. I only felt relief when the petal flew out. I think something is _seriously_ wrong." Bucky began rambling and Sam was more attuned to his nerves, and gave his right hand a comforting squeeze.

"Okay, it's okay. Just, chill out. We'll figure this out together, man. Does Steve know? Did he see?"

"No, no I-," Bucky sucked in a breath to steady himself.

"It happened after he left, I was by myself. No one else knows, and I can't bring myself to tell Steve, not right now. He`d freak out."

"As he should." Sam replied calmly.

"But okay, don`t tell him right now. We could ask Wanda? Her experience with the mind stone could help." 

"Yea, that sounds good. Thank you again, Sam." Bucky offered him a small smile. "I owe you one."

"You owe me several, but hey, who's counting?" Sam returned the smile with larger conviction.

"Oh, so that's how we're playing now, is it?" Bucky couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled from his chest. 

"That's how we're playing. If I had a dollar for every time you came to me to save your ass, I wouldn't need to ask Steve for $20 anymore." They both broke out into laughter.

"I'm surprised Steve still speaks to you after you stole his shield and took it sledding." Bucky felt himself relax at the memory, another laugh swayed from between his lips. It felt good to laugh. It was a natural stress reliever, and it was especially therapeutic after all the chaos that had happened. 

"Hey man, just because you two are seniors and don't enjoy fun doesnt mean I can't." Sam felt his stomach gurgle and he caught Bucky's stormy eyes. "I'm starving, do you want to grab a bite?" 

"Yea, me too. Have you ever tried Romanian food? Ciorba rădăuțeană is really good, I got it all the time while I was hiding out." 

"No but I'm down to try it. Let's go." They two gathered themselves and headed out. 

* * *

 

Once they ate and arrived back to Sam's apartment, they began their small talk once more.

"So, now that the Earth is safe from a mad purple titan, what's the game plan?" Sam began.

" I dunno, I've been fighting since the 40s. Now that there`s really no need for it, I want to explore. I want to do me. I`ve always wanted to do gardening. That stuff was restrictive to the women back in the day, any men who did 'feminine' things were shunned. I also can try agriculture, I took care of some goats while I was recovering in Wakanda. I really enjoyed that. What about you?" Bucky tilted his head.

"I don't know either. Going back to a normal life feels kind of boring. Steve said he was considering retiring from being an Avenger, but I don`t think I`m ready to hang up my wings yet." 

Steve. Beautiful, kindhearted, passionate Steve. His mind began to wander about the sandy blonde.

Bucky suddenly felt his lungs light up with fire, tendrils crawling their way up his throat. He felt dread sink into him in that moment. He was reminded of the searing pain from last night, and it didn't take him much brain power to guess what was going to follow in the burning's wake. He placed a hand over his chest as he began violently coughing. Just as the same as before, a bushel of blue petals pushed themselves out from his body and danced their way down to the floor. He sat back into the chair, sweaty and tired. He saw the speckles of blood that adorned them, and felt his heart beat pick up. If he was nervous before, he was anxious now. 

"Holy shit, Jay!" Sam looked over at his friend and then at the floor. "What the fuck!"

It took a few seconds for Bucky to gather his bearings before he spoke again.

"I know, I don't know what to do. It feels like I`m drowning." Bucky took a much needed deep breath. "And Jay, are you fucking serious? I'm here suffocating and you call me _Jay_?" Bucky replied with distaste.

"If you died, I wanted you to die mildly irritated with me at the very least, Bucky." Sam narrowed his eyes. "But stop deflecting, what the fuck was that?" He scolded.                  " Is that how it happened last night too? You just randomly started coughing? And there was blood?" 

"It was only one last night, and there wasn`t blood," Bucky replied absently.  "It hurts like hell. It just started happening out of no where." 

Sam walked into the kitchen that was a short distance away to grab himself and Bucky water, handing the latter his drink before sitting down at the mahogany table again. 

"Please Sam, no matter how bad it looks or how bad it gets, do not tell anyone besides Wanda. Steve can't know. I can't tell him unless I know exactly what's going on." 

"Okay, okay I won't.. It might take a while to get a hold of Wanda, though. No one`s seen or heard of her in a week. If Clint has, he`s not saying anything. " 

"Thank you again, Sam."

"No worries, Jay. You know I've always got your back, I like taking care of the elderly." 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a frown etching onto his face. Sam knew better, and saw the playful tint that sparked in his blue eyes.   
"Fuck off, Samvel."

"Yea, yea you wish. Now can you help me clean up your lovely bouquet off my floor? You're causing a biohazard in my apartment." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the slow updates. I made the mistake of taking 2 summer classes so college is kicking my ass. My classes are only 5 weeks this semester , so I will have at least weekly updates. 
> 
> Sam gives Bucky the most annoying nicknames he can, but uses Jay more consistently. Samvel is a Russian nickname for Samuel. ciorba rădăuțeană i s a pretty popular Romani dish, so I thought it would be fun to incorporate that into the story in honour of Seb, and Bucky hiding out in Romania. I do hope to expand more on Bucky's friendship with Sam & Shuri, because marvel said no. 
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

 

Once Bucky departed from Sam, he followed up on his promise with Steve. They met once the sun had begun to set, Steve drove them to a small thicket at a tucked away trail within New York's township. The drive was spent listening to new music and critiquing them for having too much synthetic beats. Bucky wasn`t a big fan of pop music, he was more of an Amy Winehouse and Hozier person. He did enjoy some rock and pop-punk music, but it wasn`t a majority in his music library. He did like Toxic by Britney Spears too, but that was a guilty pleasure and he`d never admit that to anyone. 

After a few minutes of walking through a trail, Bucky spoke up. 

"Why did we come here, Steve?"

"We needed a break." He replied simply. 

They both were wound up , and alcohol did absolutely nothing to either of them. Well, that was a lie. Bucky probably could get drunk faster and easier than Steve because his serum wasn't the perfect formula, but it would still require copious amounts of alcohol. It was mostly for the nostalgia that both of them would even entertain bars. 

Once they were further into the wilderness and away from the general population, Steve pulled a flashlight from the backpack slung over his shoulder. 

  
"Hey Steve, can I ask you something?" Bucky stole a glance at his companion and felt his body temperature rise.  
  
"Mmm, what's it Buck?" Steve's blue eyes refracted the moonlight and Bucky could see green and gold speckled within blue. It was like seeing pieces of peridot and amber infused into sapphire crystals. Unique, flawed, but gorgeous in every single way possible. He felt a pressure in his chest.  
  
Bucky's eyes flitted around, taking in their surroundings within the darkness so he wouldn't seem like he was staring.  
  
"If you hadn't been apart of this whole Avengers ordeal, would you still have stayed? In New York, I mean." Bucky's face was warm.  
  
"No, I wouldn't. I'd move somewhere less populated. Though it would have to be somewhere warm. I don't like the cold. I don't like when it's freezing and snowing." Steve sounded guarded, his face stoic. He sucked in a breath before he continued again. "It reminds me too much of going under, crashing into the ice." His voice wavered a half step between pitches. So subtle, Bucky wasn`t even entirely sure he had heard it.   
  
"I don't like it either, it reminds me of Siberia. New York is such a pain in the ass during the cold anyways, you can't enjoy shit."   
  
Steve gave his friend an amused grin. Bucky felt his chest start to burn and he cleared his throat to push down the petal that obstructed his airway.  
  
"Guess us old folks just aren't cut out for the winter." Steve joked.  
  
They both chuckled.  
  
"Guess not. Our frail little hearts just can't handle the inconvenience of the cold. If I were to ever find a permanent place to live, I think it would be somewhere scenic. Out of all the places I can remember visiting, I really, really liked Wakanda. It was quiet, had sunshine and beautiful landscapes. It was peaceful." Bucky sighed in content , wistfully reminiscing his stay in the country.  
  
"I understand, being in nature helps me get my thoughts together. It's nice to just unwind and look at the environment around you. It`s part of the reason why I had moved to Washington, I`d go to the forests and lakes when I needed to. It was really great inspiration for art, although I`m out of practice at this point."  
  
"You always were a great artist, Stevie. If you decide to ... you know, you should uptake art classes again." Bucky skirted around mentioning the possibility of Steve leaving directly, it would only sour his mood. He wanted to enjoy as much time with him as he could.  
  
Steve hummed.  
"I've thought about it before, but I just haven't had the time or passion for it. What about you? Back in the day you really liked science and writing. You were incredible at writing out the details to create a picture. It made me feel like I was right there in the war with you when you sent me letters."  
  
"Until you actually were there with me." Bucky quipped. "I think... I would like to get back into it. I've told Sam I wanted to learn more about agriculture too. I had my own little farm with goats. I miss it, a lot. I actually wrote some scripts about the mountains. I don`t think I`m ready to go out and be in the public eye yet, I`d need to stay somewhere private. There's a lot that I still need to catch up on, both with the world and myself." Bucky frowned.  
  
"I get it. When I was defrosted, everything was a shock. There is no rush, Buck. Go at your own pace or you'll overwhelm yourself. You've gone through a lot, and you've made a lot of progress."  
  
"Sometimes it doesn't feel that way." Bucky said bitterly. "It feels like each time I take a step forward, I fucking take three steps back. It feels like I'm in a battle with my own mind sometimes, and I'm so **_sick_**  of war." Buckys voice became thick.   
  
"Shh shh, it's okay Buck. C'mere." Steve opened his arms and Bucky accepted his embrace. Steve held him in a tight hug and rested his head at the crown of Bucky's brown hair.  
"Everythings gonna be okay. I've got you."  
He soothed.  
  
Bucky felt like he was on fire, his body was too hot and his chest ached. His close proximity to Steve only made it worse, but he didn't want to let go.  
  
"Thank you, Steve."  
  
"Of course, you're my friend. I'm gonna be here to support you for as long as I can. I know it is hard, but you're doing great. I know you're tired, but it gets easier with time. Sam and I can both attest to that." Steve pulled away once he was sure Bucky had calmed himself down, and gave him a reassuring smile. 

"Don't feel ashamed of your own recovery. Your recovery is a power that no one can ever take away from you. Never feel embarrassed by it." He gently patted his cheek and began surveying their surroundings. Excitement quickly etched into his facial features.

_Your recovery is  a power that no one can ever take away._

The brunette was pulled from his thoughts when Steve motioned for him to follow his lead. 

"We're almost near this really pretty view, I think you'll like it." Steve grabbed Bucky's right hand with his left, and re-adjusted his grip on the flashlight in his right. Steve began to tug Bucky along like an excited child in a candy store.  
  
Bucky felt the blooming rise of fire, and growled in annoyance. He coughed, and petals expelled from his mouth. He was anxious, yet thankful they had fluttered to the floor by the time Steve had turned around to check if he was okay. 

* * *

  
  
By the time they arrived to the spot Steve was dying to show Bucky, it was ten till midnight. The wind was nice and cool, and Bucky was enjoying himself.  
  
Him and Steve hadn't gotten the chance to _really_ re-connect after he broke free from his programming. Their friendship had just been surviving off their past chemistry.  
It was nice to create new memories with Steve, and an added bonus that it was just the two of them in their homestate.  
  
They sat against an overhang, watching the trees dance as far as the lighting allowed them to see. The moon sat high upon her throne in the sky, illuminating the water reservoirs with an ethereal glow.  Bucky's fear of heights was still very much present, the jitters in his stomach made him well aware of that. He was grateful Steve found a spot that didn`t force Bucky get near an elevated drop off, but didn`t obscure the view.   
  
"I feel like I'm seventeen again. Sneaking away from everyone , just the two of us, well past curfew hours." Bucky spoke after seconds of silence.   
  
"Oh yea. If we get caught, NYPD will be sure to personally escort us. I gotta say though, I'm glad you could come with me Buck. I really needed this."  
  
"Me too, I think. I needed to clear my head and have a distraction." Bucky paused, before meeting Steve's gaze. "Look at you, Captain America. Breaking the fucking law _again_." His voice had a playful lilt.  
  
Steve's azure eyes flashed with amusement. His pupils were noticebly dilated. Possibly from the darkness.   
  
"Psh," Steve rolled his eyes with a laugh. "You know that I've never obeyed the law when I didn`t see it fit. I've been committing federal crimes since the 40s." Steve inched a little closer to Bucky.  
  
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying this moment. Bucky felt alive.  
  
Steve spoke again.  
"New York has changed so much since when we were teens. I never knew this view existed until a year ago, and I'm sure theres more that I haven't even discovered. This is my favorite place in all of New York, it's beautiful no matter what time of day it is."  
  
"It is beautiful," Bucky realized that his shoulder brushed with Steve's, and felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn't help NOT falling for his best friend, he looked like he was sculpted by the Greek patreons themselves.  
  
He was struggling. He was struggling not to cough. He was struggling to keep the petals at bay. He was struggling to breathe properly. He was struggling to fully come to terms with the fact that he loved Steve more than platonically, and that it was okay to love him that way. Times were different now. It wasn't the 40`s anymore, this wasn`t HYDRA. This was 2023, and this was just him and Steve right now. He was allowed to love Steve.  
  
"Hey, who's older? You, or me?" Bucky turned his head and found Steve already looking at him.  
  
"Uhh... I think biologically speaking, you are." Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "Technically speaking, I think I am. I don't know Buck, you know I'm not good with math. Don't ask me this stuff."  
  
"No, you aren't. It's past midnight and we've got to shit to do in the morning. Unless you were planning on us sleeping through them." Bucky nudged his companion's side.  
  
"Oh fuck, you're right. I lost track of time." Steve stood up and offered his hand out to Bucky with a sheepish grin. Bucky accepted, and both men grunted as Steve helped his friend to his feet.

* * *

  
  
When Bucky was alone again in his room, he immediately ran towards the bathroom. He collapsed onto his knees and hurled into the toilet.   
  
His throat burned from the acidity, and with a groan he lifted himself to sit on his haunches. His face blanching at the display before him.  
  
Bloodied petals of Delphinium, and now Marigold, contaminated the water below. The blood was brighter, fresher, larger in quantity and he felt weak. His skin was clammy and he was much too hot. He stripped himself of his shirt and pants, but found no solace. He felt like he had the flu.  
  
He felt his lungs become thicker again, and his coughing turned into more retching. He felt like shit.  
  
Bucky cleaned himself up and laid atop his covers. He had half the mind to rip off the sheets entirely to cool down, but soon found his consciousness slipping with exhaustion before he could commit.


	4. Chapter 4

 The following morning while the sun was barely rising, Bucky and Steve headed to Brooklyn together to visit their old stomping grounds. Steve looked suspicious when he saw the exhausted state Bucky was in, but Bucky assured him it was just from a rough night of sleep. He still felt incredibly weak, but he's been through worse and he's not dead yet. He sighed in relief when Steve accepted the answer and didn't interrogate any further.

The pair opted to go to the Coney Island train yards, hiding out in one of the abandoned carts that had been tagged with street art many times over. A common theme spread out on the surface were bright colors with the signature 'miles' in bubbly letters. Bucky thought the art work looked nice, it was extremely intricate. He could tell that whoever created it was very talented and put a lot of personal meaning into their work. 

  
Steve had suggested that they take the morning to do a processing period so they could both come down from their hyper-aroused state.  
  
Bucky had never tried this sort of thing before, he never was given the chance to. Steve told him he learned it from Sam when he used to go to his support groups at the VA. It was supposed to bring the brain out of the "fight-or-flight" mode.

Bucky was nervous , and Steve picked up on it immediately.  
  
"It's gonna be okay Buck, the point of it is just to be honest with yourself. Talk to yourself, talk to yourself as a friend and be kind. Do as much or as little as you need to, it is your choice. Go at your own pace, because there is no rush. Stop if you feel overwhelmed or that you're going too far into the deep end. Tell me if you want to take a break and we can go for a hike or something." Steve rummaged through his large, olive green tactical backpack and pulled out a moleskin journal, a fountain pen, a sketchbook, charcoal, and sponges. He handed Bucky the two formals.  
  
"I-uh...I know writing is your thing so I thought you would be more comfortable writing things out, than telling me." Steve gave Bucky a sheepish grin and Bucky felt his heart rate soar.  
  
His throat felt heavy and he swallowed, inwardly cringing at the earthly taste of flowers.  
  
"Yea, thank you Stevie. I appreciate it." Bucky took the items and placed them on his lap, shifting his body so he could get more comfortable. He leaned his back against the wall of the cart, facing towards the entrance with Steve perpendicular to him.  
  
Bucky opened the journal and wrote the date and time. He felt unsure of what to even begin writing about. He glanced at Steve and noted the shapes and shadows the blonde was sketching out. Bucky wasn't an artist but his guess was Steve was doing warm up sketches to put himself into the creative mind space.  
  
Bucky decided to do the same, writing about anything he could see or hear, such as the ringing sound of train whistles, to get his mind to relax and allow himself to be vulnerable. After about thirty minutes of free writing, he felt open enough to begin writing about the things that lingered in his mind.  
  
_I feel kind of awkward writing this, but here it goes. I honestly don't think there are any words in the thirty languages I know that can even begin to describe how I feel or what I've gone through. I don't even know if I can properly describe to myself what hell fire I have been dragged through. I feel like I'm a stranger in my own mind sometimes. I'm standing in a catastrophic whirlwind with no bearings, and I fear if I mis-step, I'll lose my self in the storm._  
  
Bucky paused and tapped the pen against his lips before continuing.  
  
_Shuri explained to me that what I'm feeling is common, and I'm not alone. She said a lot of war veterans feel as if they lost themselves while at war, and it was... comforting to know there are others who feel the same. I don't know how to explain it, but even though I'm sick of combat, I still crave it. It's... like an itch. I feel as if i'm missing something and I don't feel complete without it. It's like a missing puzzle piece. I almost... feel guilty about it. I hated who I was with HYDRA, the obscenities I was forced to commit, but I crave the thrill. I miss the excitement of the dangers they continuously placed me in throughout the decades. The torture they put me through, I miss that too. I notice I miss it when I'm stressed. That surely makes me fucked, what kind of masochist misses that? Life feels.. too bland? It feels too pale in comparison now. There isn't as much simulation. I'm still trying to recover my own memories, its a slow process, but they`re coming back. I know that even though I wasn't me for seventy years, I was always still there, lingering about like a wisp of a shadow. Even though I was the Winter Soldier, I feel as if Bucky was sitting on the sidelines. Winter Soldier had the hand on the wheel, and I was the unwilling passenger in a high speed cop chase. I feel like my brain is in constant over drive, and that I obsessively check my surroundings to make sure I'm not in danger. It makes me feel paranoid. I think that is the hyper-arousal Steve talked about._  
  
Bucky gave himself another mini-break to check up on Steve, and saw that he was beginning to sketch a landscape...with snow? Rain maybe? He couldn't tell yet, but it looked nice. The sun was climbing higher into the sky, and the pink and orange hues highlighted Steve's hair. It made his skin glow in ways that he could only describe an ancient Theos' would. Steve felt his gaze and glanced up to give Bucky a small smile in acknowledgement. Bucky felt warmth bloom throughout his body, he realized it to be comfort. The earthy taste flitted in the back of his throat again.

"You alright, Buck?" Steve tilted his head and quirked a brow.

"Yea, yea I'm good. Just needed a moment." 

The blond nodded, and felt his skin flush.

Bucky noticed it as well, but convinced himself it was due to the rising temperature now that the sun was out. He smiled back at Steve after a few seconds, and they both continued into their own little worlds. Even though they were in silence for the most part, it was still enjoyable to be in each other's presence. 

  
_I don't think I want to continue too much further into the negatives right now. My head is starting to hurt and I feel nauseous. I will say though, I am forever grateful that Shuri was able to deactivate the programming. It felt weird when we were taking the steps to do so, but it was freeing. She started the process by having me say the first word repeatedly while I shifted my eyes back and forth as she tapped my hands. It felt stupid at first, but we eventually got it done. We went slowly, a new word added every week until I was able to say the entire string of words without lapsing into the Winter Soldier. She called it EDMR; Eye Desensitizing Movement and Re-processing, and that it was a very effective treatment for PTSD. It felt liberating to know that I no longer had to be in fear of being taken advantage of again, I felt like I was in control. Once I came to the conclusion that I wasn't a threat to myself or others, Shuri offered to have me help her around her lab. I had always enjoyed science, and I was amazed at how far it had come. I remember Howard Stark's prototype of a flying car, and Shuri was not only able to accomplish that at sixteen, but she also created remote controlled air crafts that didn't require someone to physically pilot from the cockpit. How incredible is that? I'm excited to see how the world progresses_.  
  
  
Bucky pondered and began to write in a language he was sure Steve wouldn't know, he would rather be caught dead than have Steve know what he was writing about.

 _I'm really grateful that Steve gave me the space I needed while I was in Wakanda, he would visit when he could while on the run, but he wasn`t overbearing.  Looking back I think we were starting to become unhealthily attached. He was grasping at straws in hopes that I was the same person as before, and I was barely figuring out who who the fuck I am. The time and distance allowed us to become individuals again, and not become codependent. I also think the feeling I get when I see Steve is beyond nostalgia, he feels... right? Every time I look at him I feel like I'm at home. Every time I look at him, I feel warmth and a rush. Every time he smiles at me I'm sent reeling. He's not perfect, even an enhanced individual has flaws, but I accept them for what they are. I accept him for who he is, I always have. I never followed Captain America, I followed Steven Grant Rogers, the dodgy kid from Brooklyn who didn't know how to stay down. The passionate man who was a first generation Irish immigrant and protected others before himself. I am beginning to accept that what I feel for him is more than platonic. I think I have always known, but I just pushed it away._  
  
Bucky cleared his throat when he felt the another few petals obstructing his airway, and tried to conceal his gasp when he tasted the coppery tang of blood.  
  
Steve shifted and stretched, the sketchbook in his lap rustling with his movements. His fingers were smudged grey with charcoal , and he moaned when his back popped. He turned his body to Bucky and splayed his legs, his hands placed between them on the flooring below.   
  
"I think I'm done for now, so whenever you're ready to call it quits, just lemme know. There is no rush, take your time." Steve said as he began to put his art supplies back in his bag.   
  
Bucky hummed in acknowledgement. He continued to write in his journal for another 30 minutes. 

_I think whatever is happening to me is connected to Steve. I don't know if he's a negative factor and if continuing to spend time with him like this is good or bad for me. I would rather die than not be able to see Steve again. I have already had enough solitary for three life times._

Soon enough Steve had gotten bored, and fixed himself so his head rested in his companions lap. His light lashes fluttered closed over his eyes when Bucky began to run his fingers through his hair with his right hand, knowing it always relaxed the blond hero. After a few minutes, Steve's breathing evened out and he dozed off. Every now and then , he would nuzzle against Bucky's hand and let out a content sigh in his slumber. 

_Literally just being here with him, not even doing anything is enjoyable to me. It's 2023, it's okay to feel this way. It's okay. It's not wrong, disgusting, or even illegal. It's natural. Having feelings for Steve Rogers is okay._

Bucky closed his journal and very gently began to tap the tip of Steve's nose. The blond scrunched it in annoyance and cracked an eye open. 

"Ya ready?" Steve's voice was thick from his nap, and he began to stir with a yawn.   
  
The brunet nodded. 

Steve lifted himself off of his friend and stretched again.  
"Well, what do you think? How do you feel?"  
  
Bucky considered his words before answering.  
"It...it was a struggle to be open with myself and not just bury everything and lock it away. I think I feel a bit better now, mentally, I don't feel as distressed. I think I like it, I don't know how I would do by myself, but I enjoyed having you close while I did it. I do feel kind of sick though."  
  
Steve seemed satisfied with his answer.  
"I'm glad, Buck. I know it's hard, but you doing it at all is a huge step. Sickness is common when doing these things, it's a... a somatic symptom. Trauma is a lot of stress , so your body takes a blow with it. Let's go for a walk and we'll grab a bite, yeah? That should help." Steve stood up and offered his hand, Bucky accepted with his metal prosthetic and the two of them headed out of the cart.  
  
Bucky halted and placed his hand on Steve's bicep, effectively getting his attention.  
  
"What's up, Buck?"  
  
"Can you help me tie up my hair? I can't always get it even."  
  
That was a lie, but who was going to check him? Certainly not Steve.  
  
"Of course." Steve's eyes lit up, the seafoam colouration illuminating with content.  
  
Bucky gave Steve his hair tie and turned, trying to steady his breath when he felt Steve's fingers delicately caress through his hazelnut tresses.  
  
"Can you tie it half way up?"  
  
Steve hummed in confirmation.  
After a few moments, Steve gently patted Bucky's head and stepped back.  
  
"There, all done."  
  
If Bucky hadn't known better, he would've thought he heard fondness entwined into the blonde's voice.  
  
The two of them eventually settled onto Italian food, and found themselves situated with a large portion of pasta.   
  
"Have you seen all the new vegan stuff that's coming out? Fake meat, can you imagine that?" Steve shook his head in disbelief.   
  
"Yea, I actually tried a few recipes in Wakanda. M'Baku's tribe are mostly vegetarian and pescatarian, so it was a trip experiencing something so... different."   
  
"Oh yea?" Steve's eyebrows furrowed as he took another bite of his food. Once his mouth was cleared, he began speaking again. "How was Wakanda? I never was there long enough to indulge into their culture."   
  
"It's great, everyone's really nice. Shuri is a smart ass kid, literally and figuratively. She let me help her around her lab, and we discovered together that I`m partial in chemistry and physics."  
  
"Oh yeah? You were always really good in math, you were the best sniper in the battalion. That requires skills in marksman ship." 

"Yeah. We spent a whole week trying to come up with a formula to create oven-less cookies. T`Challa was not happy being the test subject to the prototypes, but he didn`t die eating them so he`ll get over it." Bucky smiled. The King had tried so many times to get himself out of it, but ultimately lost in the end.   
  
Their day continued in similarity, the two of them just chatting, sharing stories from their time apart. Bucky looked at Steve like he put the stars in the sky, and felt his lungs burn every time Steve laughed or touched him. Steve noted that Bucky seemed reserved, like he was hiding something from him. He ultimately became distracted by the new observation that Bucky's eyes shifted between whiskey brown and stormy, grey-blue. Their coloration changed with how much sunlight they captured, and Steve felt himself fall further into the rabbit hole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many apologies for the lack of updates. life comes at ya fast. I had writers block for a hot minute so I'm back. 
> 
> So just some quick pointers: 
> 
> In my story both Bucky & Steve have PTSD, and I wanted to depict them healing and recovering from it since MCU did a shit job. I want to potray PTSD as realistically as I can, as I wanted their experiences to feel more authentic. In Bucky's journal he writes about his guilt & need for combat, which is a very real thing many war veterans have with combative PTSD. Even the pain they endure during war can be craved. EDMR is also a real treatment used to desensitize trauma to allow the brain to re-process and move the memory out of the "fight or flight" mode. Often times when people remember their trauma, they feel physically sick, drained, dizzy, or nauseous. 
> 
> As far as Bucky writing in another language, but you still being able to read it in English is me being lazy and not knowing another language besides English and Spanish, both of which Steve understands. Go crazy & chose any language that isnt English, Irish, Spanish, German, or Russian. 
> 
> I also really like the idea of Bucky having heterochromia or hazel brown/blue eyes since Bucky in the comics is depicted as having either or colors. 
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated & inspires me to write more. Thank yall for sticking with me so far!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mention of drug use, it`s not explicit though

* * *

Bucky, Sam and Steve had loaded themselves into Sam`s car. The drive to their destination was silent, the weight of the long day ahead tethered their words, holding them hostage on their tongues. 

When they arrived at the foot of the mountain, they saw their friends each carrying items ranging from bouquets, candles, signs, and personal objects. Bucky held his item closer to his chest, hugging them tightly. He followed his associates to the top of a peak, his eyes surveying the crowd as they trudged forward on the rough terrain. There were a few people and children he didn`t recognize, but saw from their signs that they were with an organization. An orphanage, he realized.  

The sun radiated in the sky, casting a warm golden hue on the land below. Birds sang and chirped, and the wind rustled the leaves of the trees.  
  
It was in simple words, a beautiful day.  
  
There was a calmness and joy that the environment gave off, but the atmosphere was the very definition of antithesis.  
  
A group of disgruntled, bruised heroes stood huddled together. Their tired, misty eyes stared onward, their collective silence loudly signaling the sorrow each of them felt.  
They feared if one word was uttered, the tears would never stop.  
  
The air was fresh like a breath of spring. There was the smell of rain, florals, and fresh cut grass.  
Red, pink, white, and golden flowers adorned the limestone below.  
  
**NATASHA ROMANOFF**

**1984-2023**

**THE GLUE THAT HELD EVERYTHING TOGETHER**

The people from the orphanage were the first to step forward, placing their items in their rightful places and lit the candles, slowly turning to face the group. Their leader, a woman with black hair and brown eyes spoke up. 

"We are gathered here today to honor Natasha Romanoff, founder and co-president of the Springwood Orphanage operated here in Washington D.C. There are many things Natasha is, and selfish isn`t one of them. After the Decimation, she took immediate action to gather the resources to help those who needed it. She understood what it meant to lose, especially as a child, and made sure that no child was suffering. The Decimation made a fourth of the child population in America orphans, and she went to great lengths to ensure they were taken care of. She would personally come down to our facilities every Friday to have ballet classes with the boys and girls, and taught them self defense. She would sit down with them and listen to how their day was, help them with homework, do art with them. Anything you can think of, she did it. The world was a dark place, and Natasha was the light of hope the children needed. She saw each and every one of them as her own, and loved them to the ends of the Earth and back." The woman`s voice cracked and she quickly wiped away her tears. "Natasha still lives on through us, and we will keep her vision alive. We`re changing our name, from here on out we are officially named 'Natasha`s Sundance Square'. We thank all of you for coming." The woman stepped back, and a kid, no older than 19 stepped forward. 

"Nat is a hero to the world, but she`s my hero too. My parents disappeared in front of my eyes when I was 14, and I was forced to live on the streets. I was hungry, depressed, tired, and scared. I dropped out of high school, became addicted to cocaine by the time I was 17, and had to steal to survive. I had been caught and arrested by city police, and didn`t have money to post bail. Nat paid for it, and told me that everything was going to be okay. She brought me to Sundance, and helped me get my life back on track. She helped me through my withdrawls, helped me catch up in school, and gave me a reason to continue living. She was a mother figure I needed the most, and she never made me feel less than human for doing what I did to survive. She knew my mistakes, and still loved me all the same. She loved unconditionally, wholeheartedly, and that`s something we can all admire about her. It`s something everyone should learn from her. Without her, many kids like me wouldn`t be where we are now. We`d still be stealing, addicted, or dead. The government didn`t do enough to accommodate to the losses, the government failed the children, and she stepped in. Natasha deserves all the recognition in the world, but she was humble enough to say it`s no big deal." The teen was crying now, and dabbed her tears away with a sad smile. "I think this is my cue to stop talking, so if anyone else wants to pay respects, go for it." She stepped back and placed her flower reef on the stone. 

Steve was curled in on himself, trying to make himself look smaller. His arms hugged his frame, and his shoulders slouched. For a brief moment, Bucky swears he saw pre-serum Steve standing beside him. Just as quickly as he had seen it, the image flickered and there stood the 6'2 man. Bucky blinked the tears away, allowing them to coat his lashes. Steve had grown a lot, figuratively and literally, but his habit of trying to downsize remained.  
  
Bucky knew Steve was waging war with himself, blaming himself for things he had no control over. He nudged his blond companion with his foot, attempting to pull him out of his brooding.  
  
Steve glanced up at him with a stoic face, but just as always, his eyes betrayed what he wanted to hide.  
  
_Guilt. Remorse._  
  
Clint was the first to step forward, collapsing to his knees to place a Black Widow's Bite bracelet on the headstone.  
His throat burned, and he gently placed his hand on the memorial.  
  
"You've come such a long way since Budapest, Nat." His voice became thick with tears and he let out a small cry.  
"I'm so sorry. It should have been me, but you're so damn stubborn. Please forgive me." His shoulders shook as grief wracked up his body, and his sobs could be heard from the group behind him. He forcefully pulled himself away to allow others to say their peace.  
  
Sam was next, and he stood with his arms crossed, hugging himself tightly. He began to whisper.  
"You are single handedly the most bad ass person I know. I still don't forgive you for stealing my dumplings, especially when you knew I was looking forward to eating them. Next time I see you, it's on sight. That's not a threat, that's a promise." Sam closed his eyes and sighed.  
"I know that you're watching from up there, and I know that everything's going to be okay. Rest easy, Natasha. I got it from here." Sam took a finalized look at the grave, and stepped away.  
  
Steve approached the memorial. Sluggishly, he sunk to his hinds, and added a rose to the array of flowers and shivered.  
"You were one of my closest friends, and you'll always have a special place in my heart. You helped me adjust to this century once I came out of the ice, and you helped allow me to become more comfortable with myself. You saw me as more than Captain America, you saw me for me. You saw Steve Rogers. You were one of the few that did. You liked to pry into my dating life, constant tried to set me up on blind dates, but I know now it was because you didn`t want me to be lonely. I remember when we had just came back home from a failed mission, and you wanted to cheer me up. I was brooding and grumpy, and you told me to pull the stick from my ass. You put a vinyl on my turntable and forced me to dance with you, and didn't stop until we were both laughing and dancing to swing music. I don`t think I`m ever going to forget that. This isn`t goodbye, just a temporary pause. I`ll see you again in a minute, Nastaha." Another few tears fell and splattered onto the headstone, staining them a dark grey. He sniffed, and reluctantly retreated back to his place.   
  
Bucky slowly approached and sat criss-cross before the stark reminder.  
"Nat," he breathed and gripped the pink ballet shoes, before he gently placed them next to the other objects.  
"I know we didn't start in the best of terms, and we knew each other in the darkest moments of our lives. Thank you for not hating me, and giving me another chance. Despite what you were told and conditioned to believe, you knew I was as much of a prisoner as you were. You saw beyond the monster I was forced to be. The weapon they made me become. You always tried to see the good in people, even if they didn`t deserve it. I'm so glad we got a fresh start at friendship; and that you were my partner in our NERF gun wars. We won every single time. You were my partner in crime in our little quartet, and no one can replace you. You're my family, Nat. " His voice cracked and he felt heavy. "I'm going to miss you so much."  
  
He stepped back and stood next to Steve and Sam, respectfully watching everyone else take turns to say their partings. Wanda had come, but was understandably not in a speaking mood. She stood in front of Natasha`s headstone, scarlet hues dancing around her form until she was ready to depart. Nick Fury took the longest, but said the least amount of words out of everyone. Their bond was unspeakable, no words were needed in the first place. Everyone knew how much they meant to each other.

Steve was trying to stifle his sobs, and Bucky felt his heart shatter. He quietly reached over, brushing his finger tips against Steve's. An act of comfort, something they did as teenagers to assure the other that they were within reach if needed. Steve hiccuped and met Bucky's eyes with his red, teary grey-blue ones.  
  
Bucky's own tears cascaded down his cheeks, glistening with the sun and annoyingly obscuring his sight. Slowly, he reached over and wrapped his hand around Steve's, the metal plates of his arm quietly whirring.  
  
Steve entangled his fingers with Bucky's and gave a pressured squeeze, breaking his gaze to look back at the dull limestone ahead.  
  
Bucky felt warmth spread from the tips of his toes, slithering up his body until he felt aflame. His chest grew heavy again and he wheezed, silently grateful he was crying. His unsteady breathing wouldn't look out of place.  
  
He felt sick, tired, his head hurt, but at this point he couldn't tell if it was from the flowers flurrying around in his lungs, or the heavy amount of crying he had done.  
He was in pain, but he didn't want to separate himself from Steve, not when they needed each other the most.   
  
Nothing could separate him from Steve, not even the universe. It had tried once before, and ultimately failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i`m so mad marvel didn`t give nat a funeral, so i`m doing it myself.


	6. Chapter 6

When Bucky had arrived home from Nat's memorial service, he was caught between the devil and hell. He was crying non-stop, and vomiting up flowers. The pain made him cry harder, and the excessive crying made him more nauseous. He had cried himself out, and was left an empty shell. His mind was in autopilot, and he couldn't remember if he drifted off to sleep or not.   
  
His body ached, he was restless and uneasy. The marigolds and delphis had been coated in his blood, a dangeorus warning that something was terribly, terribly wrong. He noticed it took much more effort to breathe, and if the world was silent enough you could hear a small wheeze with each inhale. His lungs rattled, and his chest stung. Each breath felt like a lashing, cutting and ripping away his energy.   
  
He shakily unlocked his phone to see a text from Sam, telling him Wanda was in a better mood and she wanted to speak with him immediately. His heart beat picked up, and he felt his pulse thrumming in his ears.   
  
He was anxious.   
  
He huffed and hauled himself to Sam's apartment, feeling nothing but dread sink into his veins. His body felt like it was filled with sand and he felt like he was drowning.  
Everything hurt.   
  


* * *

  
  
Bucky arrived at Sam's complex, his anxiety fueling his speed and cutting down on the transit time. He knocked on the door, listening to the small echo of metal reverberating off metal and waited. He closed his eyes and started counting to ten, holding his breathe before slowly exhaling and repeating.   
  
'When everything goes south, breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth.'  
  
When he heard the clicks of locks being turned, he opened his eyes again and swallowed.   
  
Sam opened the door and stepped aside to allow Bucky inside.   
"Hey man, how are you holding up?" Concern weaved itself into Sam's voice. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and followed his friend further into his home.   
  
"I think it's progressing." Bucky replied softly. "Everything hurts."   
  
Sam felt his heart sink at Bucky's blanched appearance. He looked exhausted. He had become more hollow with each passing day. The life was beginning to dim behind his eyes.   
  
"Hello Bucky," Wanda said once they came into her view. She offered him a gentle smile and motioned for him to take a seat at the dining table. He did so while Sam went into the kitchen to grab them refreshers. Bucky felt his heart running a marathon in his chest, he tapped his foot rhythmical on the carpeted floor below.   
  
Thump, thump, thump.   
  
Sam came back and sat with them, passing out the drinks and patted Bucky's shoulder. Bucky turned to Wanda when he caught movement in his peripheral, his cerulean eyes filled with apprehension when she held out her hands. "May I? Physical contact will give me a better understanding, and I will be able to ease your worries."   
  
Bucky slowly nodded and gently placed his hands on top of hers.   
  
"So what exactly has been going on?" She gave him a re-assuring squeeze when her hands radiated a scarlet hue and warmth spread along his body, deep within his muscles and travelling through his body. He slowly felt the tension from his body melt away , and his body relax into the chair. He felt calm.  
  
"I-I'm not sure, exactly. It started happening days ago, I was catching up with Steve after the snap, and when he left I started coughing up flowers. It feels hard to breathe right before I cough, like I'm suffocating. I think it's getting worse because the past two nights ... I um-" his Adam's apple bobbed. "I vomited flowers."   
  
Sam's eyes flighted back and forth between them, his hands clasped tightly on the table.   
  
Wanda hummed and looked back at him with ruby speckles adoring her eyes.   
"I am not sure how to explain it, exactly. I have never seen this... condition before on Earth, but I have seen glimpses of it when i was experimented on with Loki's scepter, through visions of the stone's previous users. There are tales of this disease in other realms."   
  
Bucky sucked in a breath. "Is there... any known triggers? Or cures? How does it happen?" He felt that if Wanda had not made him placid, he would be having a panic attack right now.   
  
"I believe it develops from intense romantic attraction, unyielding fidelity. Is there anyone you have fallen for?"   
  
Bucky hesitated and Wanda nodded in acknowledgement.   
  
"I will not pry into your business then, however..." she paused to consider her words. "The only known cures for this ailment are for the recipient of your love to return the feelings, or to have the flowers surgically removed. This will remove all feelings for your beau, including platonic. You will feel completely numb to them if you are to have the surgery." She said carefully.   
  
"I do want to warn you, that if you opt to not have the surgery, and the love isn't requited, you will die a very agonizing death. It starts with petals, and blossoms to full flowers and vines that fill your lungs until your life source gives out, or you suffocate, whichever comes first. Thorns are already beginning to grow, Bucky. I'm afraid that your enhanced abilities are spurring the disease to progress as fast as your body is trying to heal."   
  
There was a solemn silence.   
  
Wanda eased her hold on Bucky, withdrawing her powers from him while he tried to gather his bearings before speaking again.  
  
"Fuck me," his voice shook and held his voice in his hands.   
  
"Why does the unthinkable always happen to me." His hands dragged down his face and he looked back at Sam and Wanda.   
  
"I'm so sorry Bucky, I wish there was more I could do for you." Wanda's eyes were soft with remorse, a small smile splayed on her red painted lips.   
  
Sam placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave a small pat.   
  
"I'm not going to tell you what you should do, because that's your choice. I just think deep down you already know what you need to do."   
  
Bucky's eyes stung , and he met Sam with a weary look.   
  
"Yea... I need to go," Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, and with a gravely voice, muttered out an "I need space." before he bid his friends goodbye and rushed out of the apartment.   


* * *

  
  
The closer Bucky got to the blond's apartment, the more painful it was to breathe.   
  
He rapidly knocked on Steve's door with motive, his hormones seizing control of his brain. He was rolling off adrenaline and he felt like if he didnt confess to Steve right now while he felt invincible, he would never have the courage again to be able to do it.   
  
Bucky started to become impatient when no answer came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky I love you 
> 
>  
> 
> As always feedback is much appreciated


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for domestic abuse, ptsd flashbacks, and angst

_Jazz played on the small radio as a blonde woman waltzed around the kitchenette, her skirt twirling with her. Her hair was up-done, her lips a stark, bold red.  Her hips continued to sway to the music, gently grabbed the small child's hands, and guided his small body to dance to the melody._  
  
_"Mommy!" The small boy whined, jutting his bottom lip forward in a pout. "I dont wanna dance."_  
  
_The blonde woman smiled and tapped his nose with the pad of her finger, laughing when he scrunched it in annoyance. "Have some fun with me dear, these are moments that are rare." Her hands moved in tandem with her words._  
  
_The boy continued his dismay, before finally resigning. "Fine," he grumbled._  
  
_"Oh my Steven, are you trying to strike a deal with me?" Her smile grew, her eyes gleaming, enrapturing the sun in ways that made the brown glow golden._  
  
_"No..." the child replied shyly, the corners of his lips upturning in the slightest._  
  
_"Good, you know that as your mother I'm always the bo-" she was cut short at the sound of something slamming , and quickly turned to face the door, instinctively pushing a toddler Steve behind her._  
  
_Steve felt his heart beat pick up, palpitating in painful, irregular patterns within his chest._

**_Lub. Lub. Dub. Lub. Dub. Lub._ **

_He desperately clinged to his mother's pencil skirt as the atmosphere plummeted. The fun, warm heartedness evaporated in an instant, only leaving a sinking, dreadful need to survive. His home didn't feel like home. It sent chills down his spine._  
  
_"Sarah, you cheating whore." The man slurred, anger shaking his voice._  
  
_"Steve honey, go to your room." Her voice was tight, airy, her jaw cinched tightly._  
  
_"But mom-"_  
  
_"Now, Steven. Please don't make me ask you again."_  
  
_Steve glanced at his mother, and then at his father who stood at the door. The brunet haired man clenched his fists, and he could feel the danger that radiated off of him in waves. He could tell in his young age that he was drunk again, he reeked of alcohol. His mother was tense, yet stood tall. He knew it was out of fear, and not out of confidence. Her lips were curled into a snarl, a dangerous warning she would lunge if provoked to. She reminded him of a terrified dog backed into a corner._  
  
_"Steven." She said again, not taking her eyes off the man standing before her._  
  
_Steve walked as quickly as he could to his room, clamping his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He was speaking loudly to himself in his head, desperately trying to drown out the sounds of fighting within the house._  
  
_When he heard the door slam closed again, he headed back down to the kitchen, and gasped when he saw his mother on the floor._  
  
_He scurried to her as quickly as his small legs would take him, and clumsily sunk to his knees next to her._  
  
_"Mommy!" His mother's sandy hair was speckled with ruby, the sight alone making his eyes widen in horror._  
  
_"Steven," she breathed and sat up, holding her hand up to her nose to apply pressure._  
  
_"Mommy, why didn't you just stay down!? You get yourself more hurt!" His voice was thick with tears and he let out a sob._  
  
_"Steven, look at me." Her voice was stern, and he slowly lifted his pale eyes to meet her hazel ones. He could see her lip was split, and he winced. Gently, she entwined her fingers with his._  
  
_"You listen, and you listen well my son. You ALWAYS get back up. No matter what happens, you get back up. Do you understand me, Steven?" Her voice was strong, filled with conviction._  
  
_Steve slowly nodded. He reached his hand out to touch her face, only to find her image slowly dusting away._  
  
_He panicked, and began to scream. He blinked, and found himself in another scene. Another time. His hand was still outstretched, and wind whipped around his face._  
  
_"Hang on, Buck." His voice was high, vocal chords tight with stress and his breath was quickened._  
  
_Hang on, hang on, hang on_  
  
_Bucky's blue-hazel eyes were staring back at him, wide and filled with fear._  
  
_Steve shuffled himself closer, painfully straining his limbs as long as possible to close the gap between them._  
  
_"Grab my hand!"_  
  
_Bucky's hand reached out, their fingers just barely brushing. Steve moved to solidify his grip on Bucky, but heard the sharp screech of metal against metal. Suddenly he felt Bucky's warmth vanish, and saw his companion begin to plummet._  
  
_His petrified screams echoed, engraining into his memories for the years to come. His eyes shined with tears, his hand still outstretched as he fell deeper and deeper below._  
  
_Steve felt his back hit the snow covered ground, and let out a pained grunt._  
  
_"Steve?"_  
  
_He sat up and saw the brunet before him, and the Howling Commandos trailing after._  
  
_"You alright, pal?"_  
  
_"Yea, yea. I just need to go."_  
  
_Bucky's face flashed with pain. He stared at Steve with despair, anger._  
  
_"You're leaving us? You're leaving me? We just got you back."_  
  
_"Yes. I have to go."_  
  
_"Please stay, don't go." He pleaded._  
  
_"I have to, Buck." In truth he didn't want to. He didn't really want to leave, he just felt like he HAD to. His feet trudged him forward, disobeying his commands to stop and turn back around. He didn't have a choice._  
  
_"Steve?"_  
  
_He kept going._  
  
_"Steve?" Bucky said his name with fear, confusion, as if he was somewhere else._  
  
_He stopped and turned around, his eyes going wide. Bucky was walking towards him, gun in hand as brown began to speckle off of him._  
  
_"What's happening to me? What did you do to me?"_  
  
_"Nothing! I would never do anything to you, never to hurt you."_  
  
_"Steve?" His voice called again, but sounded much further._  
  
_Steve rushed forward just as Bucky collapsed, the two of them tumbling to the ground as Steve desperately tried to cling on. He just needed to hold him._  
  
_"Steve?"_  
  
_"Steve!"_  
  
_"Steve!"_  
  
Steve shot forward, gasping for breath. He looked around frantically, and stopped when he felt pressure on his thighs. He blinked, and slowly met warm whiskey brown eyes.  
  
"Bucky?" He asked in disbelief, and shuddered when he felt his metal hand cup his cheek, a sharp contrast to his hot, sweaty, flushed skin. He saw his parlored face and opened his mouth to speak, but Bucky beat him to the punch.  
  
"Yea, it's me pal. I'm right here. Are you okay?"  
  
Steve nodded and thickly swallowed. Slowly, Bucky removed himself from his lap and sat beside him on the bed.  
  
"Nightmares?" The brunet asked simply.  
  
"Yea. How'd you get in?" Steve`s voice was quiet, his pupils dilated to the point where Bucky could barely see the blue rimming around them.   
  
"You don't do a good job hiding your spare key. Now c'mon, let's get you out of bed." He held out his hand to guide his friend , carefully easing him from the entanglements of the Egyptian threaded sheets.  
"Go get freshened up, I'll wait for you in the living room." 

* * *

Bucky had settled himself in Steve's apartment, splayed out onto his couch and lazily tossed a hackeysack into the air, catching it, and repeating. He knew he needed to tell Steve what was happening with him, the symptoms were becoming physically noticeable, and he wasn`t sure how much longer he could stall for. Steve never let things go, and he would only ask him more questions in due time. He wanted to do it now, he was  _itching_ to, but Steve was in no condition or state of mind to hear it right now. It would devastate him. He already had so much weighing on his mind, so naturally , Bucky decided to bite his tongue and wait for another time. Besides, what could he say?  _Hey Steve I know you just lost two of your friends and it is haunting you, but I am so in love with you and I`m dying!_

  
He sat up when he heard the blond pad into the room, and turned to face him. He took in his lover's posture, the way that he dragged himself, slowly, sluggish, and knew Steve was beyond mentally exhausted. Bucky knew him well, knew trauma well, and knew he wouldn't have the energy to verbally speak.  
  
' _Do you want to talk about it?_ ' Bucky signed.  
  
The drowsy blond signed back a simple no.  
  
_'What can I do for you?'_  
  
_'Just be here with me.'_

Bucky patted the cushioned seat next to him, wrapping the woolen throw around Steve`s shoulders and gently rubbed them. 

"I`m going to get you some water okay? I`ll be back." He patted the top of Steve`s head as he passed by, walking towards his kitchen to grab water bottles. He froze when he saw a hurried, messy charcoal sketch of Peggy Carter complimented with a black background on Steve`s dining table, and felt his heart sink. 

When he returned he sidled next to Steve, pulling his legs onto his lap. Steve shifted so he was more comfortable, and narrowed his eyes accusingly at the brunet.

_'Are **you** okay? You look sick. Shouldn't be possible.'_

Well fuck. There goes the stalling. Bucky hesitated, his fingers and hands moving awkwardly as he was rusty, but knew that Steve would understand the general statement. 

_'Haven't been eating as much as my body needs. Stressed.'_

Steve kept his eyes narrowed, silently interrogating further. Finally, he eased up.

_'Me too. I'll buy us dinner later. We need to eat.'_

Bucky went to move his hands in protest, but Steve had caught them and gently placed them back in his lap. 

_'I'm not asking.'_

He sighed and nodded, knowing he was defeated. He prayed to whatever god that would listen that he didn't cough tonight. If he threw up, he could blame it on the food. If he coughed, Steve would see the surge of blood and flowers. For now though, he enjoyed the way Steve felt warm against him, how comforting he felt. For so long, he had only known order and coldness. 

"Hey Steve," he spoke quietly. 

The man hummed in acknowledgement, meeting the brunet's gaze. 

"I love you." 

Steve smiled, a relaxed, genuine smile. 

 _'I love you too.'_ He bit his lip, and if the lights hadn't been so dim, Bucky would have caught the faint blush that dusted across Steve's face. He would've seen the mircro twitches of the expressions of joy, then hesitation, then sadness that flitted across his face.  _'You're my best friend.'_

Bucky felt disappointed, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't make Steve love him back. They loved each other, that always have and always would, but Bucky was _in_ love with him. 

Bucky returned his smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes and would vanish as soon as Steve looked away. 

"You're my best friend too." 


	8. Chapter 8

Steve awoke to find he had snoozed off with Bucky on his couch, his arm wrapped protectively around him, the brunet`s head tucked below his. Steve felt his face burn in embarrassment and nervousness in being in such a compromising position and swallowed thickly. Slowly, he eased out from underneath him to not jostle him awake. He tip toed to his room to change out of his loose clothing and into more fitting attire. When he returned, he saw Bucky had woke up, yet still was curled into his couch with the throw wrapped around him. His skin was still pale, but he no longer looked like he was at the brink of death like he had earlier in the day when Steve first saw him. He counted that as an improvement. 

"You feeling better?" The human burrito tilted his head, his hazel tresses fuzzed from sleep. 

"Yea, much better. Thank you Buck, although I should be asking you that question." Steve sat down next to him and patted the former`s thigh. "Are you hungry? What are you in the mood for?" 

Bucky nodded, "I'm doing okay. You're the picky eater, you should chose what we get." 

* * *

Once the two super soldiers had indulged themselves to the fullest on food, they had settled once again into Steve`s apartment. The two had occupied themselves at his table, downing Rumchata like it was water, cards in hand as they played Blackjack. 

"I win." Bucky grinned, puffing out his chest and totally ~~not~~ peacocking.

"I know, I know. Dickhole." Steve mumbled, gathering the cards and began shuffling. 

"Aw don't be a sore loser, Stevie." 

"I wouldn't be if it were a fair game." He scoffed, sticking out his tongue childishly while dealing out the cards and restarting the game. 

"It is fair, you're the one shuffling. You just happen to have a very lucky hand." 

"You're doing something and I know it." Captain America was a spy, he knew foul play when he saw it. 

"I'm a super soldier, not a telepath. The only magical thing about me is the fact I can stuff myself with a mountain of carbs and not gain weight." 

After another 10 minutes into the game, the blond heard his friend sigh happily. 

"No." 

"Yes." 

"Don't say it." He pointed a finger at him. 

Bucky grinned. 

"You can kiss our century long friendship goodbye." 

Bucky brought his prosthetic to his lips, imitating the chefs kiss motion and said, "I win." 

"Motherfucker!" Steve groaned, slumping into his chair. He flicked the cap off the Rumchata and downed it, then begrudgingly began shuffling the cards again. He passed out another deck. 

After a few more turns of Bucky seemingly knowing the right moves, Steve knitted his eyebrows in realization. "You _are_ cheating." 

"Am not. You just suck." He replied cooly.

"You're cheating." 

"How?" 

"You`re counting the cards." 

"Can you prove that?" Bucky lifted a brow, a challenging glint to his eyes. 

"You`re good at math." Steve said simply.  

"What`s that got to do with it?" 

"You`re good with numbers, you`re calculating, that`s what made you a good sniper. I don`t believe for a _second_  you aren`t counting, it's like breathing to you."

Bucky waved his deck tauntingly and smiled. 

"Maybe so. Maybe not. Keep thinking about it though, maybe your brain cell will do miosis." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?" 

"How so? I've been told I have a pretty good poker face." 

"Whoever told you that is also a bad liar. You get this stupid look on your face, _especially_ when you're cheating."

Bucky laughed. "First of all, counting cards isn't technically cheating. Secondly, I just happen to be good at Blackjack."

"Sure," Steve hummed, not at all convinced. 

"I am! Hey, wanna make this next game more interesting and do wagers?" Bucky wiggled his eyebrows.

"No thanks. I've had enough gambling to last me a while." He handed the alcoholic beverage across the table. 

Bucky quickly downed it to soothe raw, itchy feeling in his throat caused by the flowers fluttering in his esophagus. 

"Man I really miss being able to get drunk." Steve sighed wistfully. 

"I hear ya," Bucky took another swig. "There's tons I miss being able to do, like getting high. Speaking of, I still don't get why they outlawed marijuana. It's a plant, I could literally grow that in a bedroom." 

"Me either. I don't see why they haven't repealed that law, if they did it with alcohol I dont see why not with a plant." Steve hummed in agreement. 

* * *

 

A few hours had passed of the two of them playing more games, sharing stories during their time apart, and comparing modern times to their childhood. 

Eventually, the pair fell into a peaceful routine of their own interests. Steve sketched the man in front of him in various different art styles, different hair styles, or clothes. Every now and then when they missed the sound of the other's voice, they would ask each other odd questions to fill in the occasional void. Steve, out of curiosity, had asked Bucky if he would ever put scratch and sniff stickers on his vibranium arm. 

Turns out that Peter Parker kid had been wanting to do that since the moment he met him.  

Bucky had asked Steve if he would want to have a competition to see who's metabolism was superior and could stomach the most between themselves, Thor, and Peter. 

Steve had declined, but thought Thor would take the cake since he is an alien space King, and probably has drunkenly ate something _way_ past the expiration date. Especially as a teenager. Most ~~likely~~   **definitely** egged on by Prince Loki and the Warriors Three.  

The longer Steve spent with Bucky, the longer this... feeling gnawed at him. He couldn't tell what it was or where it came from, but it deeply upset him. After another hour of being in deep thought, he realized he was woeful that he was keeping his best friend in the dark for so long. 

"So... I have been thinking." Steve said slowly, his voice more cautious in comparison to the relaxed tone he had earlier. 

"That`s surprising." 

"Buck, I`m being serious." 

"Oh...what's on your mind?" 

Steve began fidgeting, his hand rubbing his neck to soothe his nerves. "I... I wanted you to be the first to know, before I tell everyone else. It`s about Peggy. It`s almost time, and I think I`ve made up my mind." He breathed. "I want to go back." 

Bucky froze, his heart shattering quietly inside his chest. He felt as if the vines were curling up into his cardiac cavity, ripping harshly to eliminate any evidence that had it even existed. His body burned, but he couldn`t tell if it was from the disease, his heart break, or grief. 

"What?" 

"I think I`m going to go back. I... another chance with her, Buck. I can`t give that up. Not when I have another chance to start over. "

"I don`t think its a good idea." 

"Why not?" Steve crossed his arms, his voice guarded. 

"Because she lived her life, Steve. She moved on." Bucky said curtly. 

"You said you would be supportive, no matter what." 

Bucky felt his grief rise, bubbling to the surface higher and higher until, finally, it exploded. "I'm your friend, but i'm not your yes-man!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I'm your friend, and as your friend I'm calling a bad idea when I see one!" His eyes began to burn with tears. 

"It's not a bad idea." 

"It is." 

"It's not! Buck, I have another chance to fix my mistakes, to not go into the ice! She was waiting for me, and I let her down. You know-" 

"So that's what this is then? This is some type of misplaced guilt? Steve, she forgave you! She loved her life, she did great things with it, and she _moved_ _on_. She wanted you to do the same. I know you feel you have to fix the things you've done, both the wrongs and the 'what if', but you have to move forward! You have to. Just like her, you've also done amazing things with your life. I **_love_** you just as much as her, but you have to just—for the love of god!" Bucky felt flowers tickle his throat, and quickly swallowed them back down. Not here, not now. "You have to _forgive_ yourself! You can't keep doing this to yourself. You're human, you make mistakes. You can't always fix them. You can't change the past." Bucky fumed. He blinked back the tears, chest heaving. 

Sometime during the heat of their argument, the two men had stood up from the table; placing an obvious amount of distance between them. 

Steve stood wide eyed, sea foam irises storming with confusion, disbelief, and pain. "Bucky..." he took a cautious step forward, freezing immediately when the veteran before him took two back. 

"I'm sorry I'm just..." Bucky turned his head, shoulders slumping. "I shouldn't have yelled like that. I didnt want to fight about this. I can't change how you feel, or what you want. I know that, I'm sorry." He stared up at the ceiling in defeat. He blew it. "I have to go. I-I'll see you at Tony's memorial." He zipped out of the apartment, in an autonomous race if he could get to his apartment before he would vomit flowers, and possibly now, vines. 

Steve still stood in place, too shell shocked to fully process the events that unfolded before his very eyes. The ticking of the clock echoed against the silence, amplifying the loneliness in the apartment that radiated the golden life not even half an hour before. The blond took a shuttering breath, slowly sliding down the wall before he sat on the ground. He rested his head against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest. 

"I just got him back." The misty eyed blond murmured. That made four times Steve lost him, and the one time he was to blame. 

He loves me. He loves me. He _loves_ me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is almost done folks. thank yall for sticking w me


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